Unexpected Revelations
by love.u.always.mom
Summary: House and Wilson are fighting over Wilson's refusal to accept treatment for his cancer when Chase reveals something Wilson wasn't expecting, and now Wilson has to decide what to do with that information. Rated M/R/NC-17 for later chapters, will eventually contain slash, yaio, M/M, Hilson smut, whatever you want to call it. Don't like, don't read, 18&up only. I do not own House, MD.
1. Chapter 1

**This is my first fic in this fandom, and House's personality is hard to capture properly, so if he seems a bit OOC, I apologize. I know this chapter is a short one, but I wanted to get it out here. I also do not know how long this is going to be, so we're all in for the same ride. This is the first time I'll be posting something that isn't already complete. And now I must add the obligatory, if you recognize it, then it's not mine. Reviews are love!**

For once, when his team arrived, House was already in their office, albeit distracted. When Chase, Park, Adams and Taub walked in, it was to House and Wilson arguing heatedly, but quietly. Sensing it would be a while, they seated themselves and began to discuss the files waiting for them while the pair continued to argue several feet away. Wilson's diagnosis had sent House into a state none of them had ever seen before.

Soon enough they gave up, the argument commanding their attention as it got louder.

"Damnit Wilson, I'm telling you the exact same thing you tell all your patients. Take your own fucking advice!"

"If I'd had any idea what it was really like I never would have given that advice because it sucks! I've seen what I'm in for, House. Day in and day out for over twenty years and I want no part of it!"

"If you hadn't told them what I'm telling you now, how many people would be dead, Wilson?"

Silence was his only answer.

"How many?" House asked forcefully, stalking toward Wilson.

The younger man heaved a deep sigh, and answered reluctantly. "Hundreds," Wilson said softly.

"Do you honestly wish you had just kept your mouth shut?" House continued forward, backing his friend against the glass wall. Wilson shook his head in a defeated way. "Then why won't you take your own advice? You can beat this damnit! I know you can, so why won't you try?"

"Why do you care, House?" Wilson yelled as he finally snapped. "This isn't a puzzle, it's not something you can solve!"

House looked momentarily stunned, before getting even angrier. "What do you mean, why do I care?" House screamed. "It couldn't possibly be because you're my best friend!" House said, voice dripping sarcasm.

But it wasn't convincing enough for Wilson, apparently, who fired right back. "Well that's never made a difference before," he yelled, tears spilling over.

House looked as though he'd been slapped, and Wilson deflated, noticing for the first time that they were virtually chest to chest. "Why can't you just let me go, House?" Wilson asked softly.

It was Chase who answered. "He can't let you die because he's in love with you. Can't you see that?"

Chase's words knocked around Wilson's brain for several deafeningly silent, endless moments before a bubble of slightly hysterical laughter escaped him, and he turned his eyes back to House, waiting for a sarcastic, scathing remark that didn't come. House's expression sunk in slowly, and his grin faded.

"He's so full of crap," Wilson tried valiantly. Still, House remained silent, eyes fixed on some point over Wilson's shoulder. "Right?" he asked in a hopeful, unsure voice.

House's eyes finally met Wilson's, and what he saw there made his chest tighten. "Right?" he tried again weakly. House's blue eyes were wide and honest, before they flicked downward.

'_Uh oh',_ thought Wilson.

He pushed off the glass wall Wilson was still backed up against, turned, and left the room without a word. And, as usual, House's silence said more than any words ever could. Chase was right.

Gregory House was in love with him.


	2. Chapter 2

Wilson had no idea what the hell to think. He'd been friends with House, somehow, for over twenty years now. And now, when he finds out he's dying, and of cancer, ironically enough, he also learns that House has been secretly in love with him for God only knew how damn long. And he would love more than anything to say that Chase was full of shit, but House hadn't denied it. And if House didn't deny it, then it was true.

Wilson dropped his head on his desk and groaned. He was still trying to wrap his mind around the whole thing, and had no idea what to think of it. The thought had never crossed his mind before, not seriously anyway. I mean yeah he'd had a strange dream here and there where he and House were romantically involved, but he had chalked it up to an overactive imagination, too little sleep and a subconscious with a very odd sense of humor.

But now that the thought had been thrust into his conscious mind, it seemed to have taken root there, and he couldn't shake it. He hadn't even known that House was attracted to men! I mean yeah, he was, although he really didn't see a need to tell anyone, but that wasn't the issue at hand. Come to think of it, Wilson didn't even know if House knew he was essentially a closet bisexual.

Admittedly, he had a clear preference for women, but he could definitely appreciate an attractive man, like Chase or even House. Sure, he had admired House discreetly over the years. With wide, expressive blue eyes, a chiselled face, and a strong, sturdy figure, House was definitely a very attractive man, in Wilson's book anyway. But he'd never thought of him, well scratch that. He'd never _deliberately_ thought of House sexually before. His dreams, as he had already established, came of their own volition.

And he did love House as his friend, very much so. But romantically, he had no idea what to think. The concept was foreign, he had never so much as considered it a possibility. Now, however, the idea would not leave him alone.

Wilson banged his head on his desk again, just as Foreman walked into his office.

"Bad time?" Asked Foreman.

Wilson sighed. "No, not really. Just something Chase mentioned about House, that's all."

Foreman paused for a moment before speaking, sounding resigned. "Chase told you how House feels, didn't he?"

"You know too? Who else?" Wilson said in an exasperated tone.

"Chase, Thirteen and I all noticed years ago, but we all swore to leave it up to House to either say something or not say something since it was really none of our business. What brought it up?"

"House was being argumentative about me not accepting treatment, and I asked why he couldn't just let me go. Chase cited House being in love with me as the reason."

"How did House react? Did he get mad?"

"Nope. Don't think so anyway. Just looked at the floor and left."

Foreman whistled, and sat down hesitantly on the other side of the desk. "So… What do you think?" He asked after a moment of consideration.

"I have no fucking clue," Wilson groaned. "I mean, I guess it explains some things but the idea that it was even a possibility never even crossed my mind."

Foreman looked as though he was debating whether or not to say what he was thinking, but Wilson figured nothing would top what he had already learned today. "Just say it, today can't get any more shocking anyway."

"Do you… even like men?" Foreman asked tentatively.

Wilson chuckled before answering. "Yeah. Basically been a closet bisexual all my life. It's never really been relevant before, the last time I was interested in a man was med school. For all the sarcastic comments, I don't even think House knows."

Foreman considered for several moments. "Well, you already put up with him on a daily basis, and you like men. Think about it," he said reasonably.

"I can't seem to do anything else," Wilson grumbled, more to himself than to Foreman, who chuckled in response.

"That sounds like it might be a good thing." Wilson shot Foreman a glare that would make House proud. Foreman laughed again, before getting up and bidding Wilson farewell, leaving him alone with his thoughts once again.

Several hours later, Wilson stood outside of House's door, beer in hand. He was just about to raise his hand to the door to knock when he heard the piano, and decided against disturbing his friend by knocking, choosing to use his key instead. He knew that with the angle the piano was facing, if he was quiet, House would be too caught up in his own world to notice Wilson come in, and he enjoyed listening to his friend play.

Wilson quietly unlocked the door and slipped inside, correct in his assumption that House wouldn't notice his entrance. From his angle he could see that the man's eyes were closed, going with the flow of the music. Silently, he shut the door and leaned up against it, setting the beer carefully down on the floor. The melody House was playing was an unfamiliar one, but Wilson could guess the subject. The man had incredible talent, and even now Wilson could feel, in his own chest, the pain that House was channeling out of his own heart.

For several more minutes Wilson stood there, eyes closed, and let his friend's pain flow straight from House's heart into his own, so powerfully that it brought tears to his eyes. Gradually, the music came to a stop and Wilson opened his eyes to find House watching him with an unfathomable expression.

Wilson expected House to get up from the bench, maybe plop down on the couch, make a sarcastic comment, or both. What he didn't expect was for House to meet his eyes for several long moments, before returning to the keys. The song that House played now was familiar to Wilson, it was one House had written almost a decade ago, about an unnamed, unrequited love.

And suddenly, as Wilson remembered the song and the music began to flow through him once more, the pieces fell into place. The unnamed love House had written this slow, sad song about was _him._ This had been a song that had always touched Wilson, and he loved to hear it, though it was a sad, mournful tune.

Without thinking about it, Wilson's feet brought him to stand next to his friend, watching his face, his hands, his body as he played with a passion that Wilson rarely saw anywhere else in his friend's life. Now though, there was even more emotion in the music than there usually was, and that fact had a single tear tracking it's way down his cheek.

Once again, the music drifted to a stop, but did not resume this time. Wilson kept his eyes closed this time, not quite able to open them and see the pain he had unknowingly been inflicting on his best friend for more than a decade. He heard House stand up and move over to him, before feeling something unexpected. Instead of speaking, perhaps a sarcastic comment, which was quite overdue, come to think of it, House gently wrapped his arms around Wilson, which he gratefully accepted.

House wasn't much taller than he was, only a couple of inches, but it was enough for Wilson to comfortably rest his head on his friend's shoulder, arms gently wrapped around his waist. He knew all too well that this hug resembled a lover's embrace, but at that moment he simply didn't care.

Wilson took a deep breath before speaking. "I'm sorry, House. I had no idea at all." Another breath. "No idea I was hurting you so much."

"If I'd have known confessing my deep, dark secret would earn this I would have told you myself a long time ago," House muttered. Wilson could hear a hint of sarcasm, but for the most part it was notably absent, which was extremely odd. After a moment, Wilson realized that it simply meant House wasn't hiding from him, wasn't deflecting. And that spoke volumes about how much his friend had been hiding from him. "I thought you'd run away screaming."

Wilson gave a weak chuckle, pulling back from the embrace and looking House in the eye. "It'd take a lot more than that to scare me off, after spending twenty years with you."

"Well what do I have to do to finally get some peace and quiet?" House asked.

'_And there's the sarcasm,'_ Wilson thought wryly. "I have no idea, House. I really don't. Although I will admit you, or rather Chase, threw me for one hell of a loop earlier."

"Bastard," House muttered. "Had no damned right to say that."

"Well I'm glad he did," Wilson said.

House gave him a confused look. "You are? I thought you would rather stay in the dark than know your best friend has secretly been imagining sucking you off while he masturbated for the last decade," House said bluntly.

Wilson felt himself blush at the thought, he simply couldn't help it. House noticed, and Wilson could see him close off his emotions, thinking he'd gone too far. Without a word, House turned and limped to the couch, flopping down and burying his head in his hands. "I'm glad I know, House."

His friend gave him a very skeptical look, one that clearly said he thought Wilson was lying. "What I just said disgusts you."

"No," said Wilson. "It just surprised me. I'm not used to you saying stuff like that." House snorted. "Saying stuff like that and meaning it," Wilson amended. House nodded.

"Why are you here?" House asked. Wilson ignored the pang in his chest as he struggled to find an answer.

"Because you're my friend, and you're hurting." He answered simply.

"Did it ever occur to you that I might not want to see you right now?"

Wilson flinched internally, but didn't let the barb get to him. House was putting his walls up, which was nothing new. He felt that he'd exposed too much of himself, and now he was trying to put everything back where it belonged. Unfortunately for House, it was like putting toothpaste back in the tube. It simply didn't work.

"Don't push me away, House. Please," he begged.

House didn't look at him when he replied. "Why not? You're pulling yourself away from me, why can't I protect myself?"

"What?" Wilson asked, confused. "How am I pulling away from you? I came over here after I found out you were in love with me. That's not pulling away."

"You're letting yourself die instead of fighting to stay here. That counts as pulling away."

A number of responses chased each other around in Wilson's head, but the one that came out wasn't among them. "I'll fight then." House looked up in shock. Wilson felt the same shock, as that hadn't been what he was planning to say, but he couldn't back out now, and discovered he didn't even want to. He meant it. "I'll fight it, House. For you. Right here in your living room, on your couch. You can hook me up yourself."

House looked as though he was afraid to believe his ears, but after several moments he nodded. "Deal."


	3. Chapter 3

**When the rating goes up to 'M', I'll say so at the beginning of the chapter, but this is not the case yet. Also, I want to make it clear that if you do not want to read a fic that includes male/male sex (probably explicit) and everything that goes along with that (ie gay relationships, etc.), now is the time to jump ship, as it ****will** **happen eventually and it ****will** **be vital to the plot. With that said, I own nothing. Reviews are love!**

"How the hell didn't I notice?" Wilson asked House about five minutes later, having joined his friend on the couch with the beer he'd brought over.

"I didn't want you to know," He responded simply.

"They noticed," Wilson responded, speaking of House's team.

"I didn't care if they noticed. I knew they would be too noble to say anything, and I don't care what they think of me either," House responded with a shrug.

"And you knew they wouldn't say anything, lest they risk losing their jobs," Wilson quipped.

"That helped too," House allowed. They were silent for several more minutes before House spoke again. "It's surreal," he began. "You're sitting here next to me, drinking a beer like nothing's changed."

"Nothing has changed," was the response. "Not really anyway. It doesn't change the fact that, somehow, you're my best friend. You care about me more than anyone else in my life, even if it is in a somewhat twisted, selfish way. I've always known you loved me, even if you wouldn't actually say it to save your own life. Did it ever cross my mind that it was a romantic love? Hell no, if there's anyone I never would have suspected straddled the fence it's you, but hey. Semantics."

House stared at him for several long moments, seeming to consider his words. "Well first off, I'm not bisexual. I'm straight."

Wilson wrinkled his brow in confusion. "I don't understand."

"You're the first man, the only man, I've ever been attracted to. When we met, I never looked at you and thought hey, I wanna bend him over. But then I…" House trailed off, and Wilson knew what he was on the brink of saying. He also knew it was most likely it would remain unsaid, because House just wasn't wired that way. Or at least, he wasn't anymore. Once upon a time, he had been, but Stacy had ruined that. House sighed heavily, and Wilson's eyes locked on his friend, wondering if he was actually going to finish the thought out loud. House's elbows were resting on his knees, beer dangling between them and head hung low. His shoulders heaved with a second deep breath, and his eyes closed before he spoke, sounding as though every syllable was costing him dearly. Knowing House, it was. "But then I fell in love with you," he forced out.

Wilson couldn't help but be incredibly touched, House was never this open with anyone, even him. The only thing he could think was that his own reaction, or lack thereof, had somehow convinced House that he wasn't running away. Wilson had a sudden impulse to scoot closer to his friend, and after a moment's consideration, acted on it. After such an admission, he knew House would feel incredibly vulnerable, so he slid over until he was hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder with his friend, and gently put an arm around his shoulders. "Thank you," Wilson said sincerely, trying to convey all his gratitude in those two words.

Sharp blue eyes met soft brown, and the emotion in the blue was such that Wilson felt it could drown him. He kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, for House to withdraw into himself and never come out, because House was never this open, this vulnerable. He never gave anyone the opportunity to hurt him, using sarcasm as armor, and Wilson wanted House to know just how much his openness meant to him, that he understood just what it was costing the man to be as open as he was being.

"As for saying that nothing is different, I beg to differ," House said suddenly, still not dropping his eyes.

Wilson shook his head before responding. "Not in my book. You're still the same House you always have been. The only difference is that now I know who you love, instead of blindly wondering and not wanting to pry," he said with a shrug. "How does that change anything?"

House looked nervous, as though he was making a difficult decision. He was staring intently at Wilson, like he was trying to convey something with his eyes alone, scared to actually say the words. He could see in his friend's eyes, though, when he made his decision, and the hard look in them made his stomach flip. House turned his body slightly, so he was facing Wilson more directly, and he watched House intently, wondering what was on his mind. With his right hand, House placed his beer on the coffee table, and placed his left softly on Wilson's shoulder. It was then that a subtle alarm bell began to go off in Wilson's head, but he ignored it, knowing better than to pull away from House for any reason right now, when he was allowing himself to be so vulnerable.

House paused for several moments, staring into Wilson's eyes, before moving his hand from Wilson's shoulder to the back of his neck. Suddenly, Wilson knew exactly what House was intending to do, and rather than flip, his stomach seemed to vanish entirely as his heart rate picked up exponentially. If he'd been connected to a monitor at the hospital, he thought wildly, it would be going nuts right now. Still, though, he didn't move, didn't allow himself so much as a twitch, as House leaned in ever so slowly, obviously giving him time to pull away if he wanted. Part of him wanted to, but he wasn't about to do that. '_And'_, his subconscious hissed, '_you want him to'. _

Wilson felt his eyelids slowly flutter closed, and sat perfectly still, hands folded in his lap and back ramrod straight, until he felt a soft, gentle pressure against his lips. In an effort to help such a new, strange experience make sense, his brain immediately began to analyze the details. House's lips were not smooth like a woman's, but not what he would call rough either, but somewhere in the middle. Neither were they dry, nor overly wet, but almost perfect. _Like Goldilocks,_ his brain threw out randomly. The kiss was light, unsure and slightly shaky, as though House expected to be hit at any moment, which he probably did.

And yet, Wilson held himself still, and after a moment he felt House relax slightly, becoming more sure of himself and of Wilson when he wasn't immediately shoved away. House broke contact for a fraction of a second before kissing him again, fitting his lips with Wilson's perfectly. A pleasant, warm bubble began to form in the center of his chest, slowly spreading outward until he could no longer deny that he was very much enjoying this.

Tentatively, Wilson allowed himself to respond to the kiss, ever so gently moving his lips against House's, trying to somehow convey that he was neither repulsed, nor completely sure of what was happening. And maybe the older man got the message, because he didn't frantically grasp Wilson, as most would do if their crush of the last ten years kissed them back, but continued in the same, rhythmic pattern, letting his lips move in sync with Wilson's.

The logical part of Wilson's brain had almost completely taken leave, unable to comprehend that A. House was kissing him, and B. that he was kissing House back, albeit unsurely. The warm, pleasant bubble in his chest had expanded to encompass the rest of his body, bringing Wilson's right hand to cup the back of his friend's neck, mirroring House's own posture.

It wasn't like the movies, where tongues are quickly brought into the equation and a fiery passion overwhelms them while clothes fly in all directions. It was soft, sweet and gentle, pleasant warmth and lips against lips until it slowly drifted to a stop.

House still had his hand at the back of Wilson's neck and vice versa, with their foreheads resting against each other as the rest of the world slowly reformed around them. House was the first to lean back, to let go, and Wilson followed suit somewhat reluctantly. Their eyes met once again, and Wilson knew his confusion was written all over his face, much the same as House's fear of the other shoe dropping was written on his.

The warm, happy bubble in Wilson's chest had all but vanished, leaving him struggling to figure out exactly what his feelings were toward House. The coldness of reality was slowly seeping in, and he felt himself trying to cling to the glow that they had both been basking in just moments before. He felt compelled to say something, but he wasn't sure just what that might be.

"House," he began, but backtracked immediately when he saw House begin close himself off, the coldness creeping into his eyes. "Greg," he tried again, succeeding in getting his friend to pause. He brought his hand back up to caress the side of House's neck, rubbing the pad of his thumb along the strong jawbone. He took a breath before continuing. "Gregory," he said softly. "It's just a lot to take in. If there's something here, and I…" Wilson paused to gather his thoughts a bit, taking in a shaky breath and then releasing it, "I hope there is." Another breath in, and out, "I don't want to ruin it before it even starts. And above all, I don't want to hurt you."

House considered this for an endless moment, blue eyes back to being wide and open, conveying every last bit of his fear. Finally, the man took a deep, shaky breath that mirrored the ones Wilson had taken, and nodded slowly. Wilson breathed a sigh of relief, glad that he hadn't caused irreparable damage and hurt his best friend.

House stared at Wilson for another long moment, before cautiously holding his left arm out, and it took Wilson a moment to realize what House was seeking. When he did, though, he gratefully leaned into that arm, letting it slip around his shoulders and placing his own gingerly around House's waist. After another moment, he let his head softly rest on House's shoulder, and chuckling when their posture sunk in.

"Never thought the rumors about us would actually come true?" House asked, humor in his voice.

"Well that too," Wilson conceded. "I just can't believe that I'm the girl," he said.

With that, the tension between them broke as they laughed, and fell back into the pattern of friendship the last two decades had given them.


	4. Chapter 4

**I know this is another short one but I wanted to get it out here and off my mind so I can keep going mentally. I own nothing, please R&R!**

House's good leg was jumping nervously. Part of his brain was screaming at him that he shouldn't be here, and that part of his brain was probably right. Currently, he sat in a clinic room in a hospital in upstate New York, waiting for an appointment with one Lisa Cuddy.

He wasn't even sure she would actually come in, she may pawn him off on someone else. He thought, though, that being honest about his identity would make her curious enough to show up, if only to see why he dared seek her out. He had almost made the appointment under Wilson's name, but had changed his mind at the last moment. He needed her to pay attention.

Just as he was considering all of this, the door opened and Cuddy walked in, dark eyes reserved and suspicious. "House. Why are you here?" She asked after closing the door with a sharp snap. In response, he pointed to the file in her hand, which she glanced down at.

"Chest pain," she read off. "Now I know that's not true. What do you want, House?"

"Well first off, it is true. I am having chest pain. Right here," he said, placing his hand directly over his heart. Cuddy scoffed.

"Oh, God, don't even tell me this is you trying to win me-"

"And second, I need a consult."

Cuddy froze at those words, leveling her gaze at him, before taking the file he now held out to her. She took it, but did not open it. "You need a consult?" She asked in disbelief. "You, Greg House, diagnostic genius, need a consult, from me?" Sarcastic disbelief laced her tone heavily, and he simply nodded at her. She heaved a sigh and opened the file she'd been handed, glancing at the scans and information for approximately ten seconds before snapping it shut. "Is this a joke? My intern could figure this out. Now why the hell are you here?"

"Look at the name," He told her quietly. She gave him a strange look, and he met her eyes and nodded.

Somewhat reluctantly, she opened the folder again, this time looking at the name on the scans. "Wilson, James Ev…" she trailed off, and met his eyes once more, silently asking for an explanation.

"He's not satisfied with what the other doctors suggested. Already did a chemo regimen that nearly killed him."

Cuddy gave him a sad look. "House, I don't think there's anyth-"

"There has to be," House said in a desperate tone. "I know there is, but neither one of us can make that kind of a call. His ideas are too harsh and I'm too damned afraid of hurting him."

Cuddy gave him a disbelieving look. "Wait, are you actually admitting that you're too emotionally invested?" She asked in disbelief.

House knew he was letting his guard way down, and it made him uncomfortable, but sometimes it was necessary. He met her eyes for a moment before dropping his own, and nodding at the floor.

"Why come to me?" She asked.

The words escaped his mouth without his permission. "Because I trust you," he said softly. She stared at him, obviously not expecting him to be as open as he was being. If he kept letting his armor down, he swore he wouldn't be able to find it when he really needed to. Letting it down around Wilson was one thing, but Cuddy was a completely different story. But he hadn't been himself since Wilson had been diagnosed.

After a long moment, she nodded, obviously feeling bad for him. He hated pity more than anything, but if it got Wilson better, he'd swallow the lemon. "Why are you going so far for him?" She asked softly.

House figured he'd go for broke, maybe try to get some sort of amusement out of this fiasco, so he picked the answer that he knew she would interpret correctly. He met her eyes with his own, and in a sad, hopeless tone simply said, "because I can't live without him." And he had been right, he could almost see the puzzle piece fall into place in her mind. '_There,'_ he thought viciously, '_how does that feel, knowing I was in love with someone else?'_

Her mouth had dropped open a bit, but she collected herself quickly. "Okay then," she said, clearly still surprised. "I have other patients to get to right now, but I'll give you a call later, just leave me your number," she said in a rush. He scrawled the proffered information on a scrap of paper, which she slipped into her pocket before hurrying out the door.

House took a deep, steadying breath as he got up. He'd done it. He finally had someone's help, and he wouldn't have to do this alone. Because this was one thing he just didn't think he could manage on his own. Wilson just meant too much to him.


	5. Chapter 5

Wilson still wasn't 100% sure about doing this, but nevertheless, he would do it. For House, like so many other things. An admittedly, the idea of leaving the man behind was painful, whether because of their friendship, House's self-destructive tendencies, love, or a combination of the three he couldn't say. He was quite sure, though, that if he died, House would probably end up committing suicide, especially after the events of the last few days.

He sighed heavily as he finished up his paperwork for the day, getting ready to go back to House's apartment. They had mutually decided, without really even needing to talk about it, that Wilson would move in. If House was going to be the one administering the chemo, and in his own apartment, it would be much easier if Wilson simply lived there. House had mentioned meeting a doctor for lunch and a consult tomorrow, but other than that was being highly mysterious about the whole affair. He shook his head and sighed, House would be House. And really, it was amazing that he was admitting he couldn't be objective here, considering the man's ego.

He finally finished the last of the paperwork, slapped the file shut, and shoved it in it's drawer gratefully. He still wasn't sure what exactly there was between himself and House, or more accurately, what there was for him. It was obvious House loved him, and he had quickly discovered that he was not opposed to physical closeness, although they had not kissed since the first time. House was giving him time and space to sort things out for himself, and he appreciated it more than he could say. Right now, though, the idea of going home, curling up on the couch and resting against the older man's shoulder was incredibly appealing. Maybe this could be something after all.

When Wilson walked in the door, he was quite surprised to find House already home, seated on the couch with a beer in his hand and Chinese food on the coffee table.

"There's more in the fridge," House said by way of greeting. Wilson grunted in response and dug it out, taking it to the microwave to heat it up. It wasn't completely cold yet, so House hadn't been home all that long either.

"You're home early," Wilson said.

"No cases right now," House responded. "Sent everyone home early, caught up on some paperwork and got the hell out."

Wilson feigned shock, clutching his chest and slumping against the counter. "You, Greg House, did _paperwork?_ Without being held against your will?"

"Oh shut up," House threw back. He paused, then continued. "I was bored."

Wilson snorted laughter as the microwave beeped. He opened it, grabbed the container, then promptly let go of it and swore.

"Oh, yeah. Microwaves tend to make things hot. Sorry, should have warned you."

Wilson shot House a withering glare before snatching the nearest dish towel to insulate his hand. Snatching his food, Wilson went over to the couch where House was seated watching a basketball game, and flopped down next to him, rather closer than he would normally have done. He noticed House shoot him a glance out of the corner of his eye before returning his attention to the game.

Five minutes later, Wilson jumped clear out of his skin when House abruptly shouted. "Travel, you morons! He just took three damn steps! Those refs are worthless," he muttered.

"Let's see you get out there and do it then," Wilson retorted in a light tone.

"I could do ten times better than that jackass!"

"Not on that leg you couldn't," Wilson returned smugly.

It was House's turn to glare. "Gee, thanks mom. Dream crusher." Wilson couldn't help the chuckle that came, and soon they were both laughing. Wilson took advantage of the light moment to set his empty container on the table in front of him and scoot over until he was right next to House, hips touching.

"Move your arm a second," Wilson said, nudging said appendage with his elbow. House lifted his arm questioningly, and Wilson promptly curled up to his friend's side, tucking his feet underneath him.

House was staring at him now, clearly wondering what the hell was going on. Wilson grabbed House's wrist and pulled his arm down around his shoulders. "I figured you woke up the next day and wanted to puke," House said bluntly.

"No, I just want to sort things out in my head. Right now I just want to do what feels right. That felt right," he paused, taking a deep breath and letting it out. He looked up at House, and met his eyes when he finished his thought. "And so does this," he said quietly.

House made an indistinct noise in the back of his throat before tightening his arm around Wilson's shoulders. Wilson could tell House was still uncomfortable being open about his feelings, and most likely always would. However, he had given so much more than Wilson had any right to expect, and for that he was grateful.

Wilson could feel the long day catching up with him, and couldn't help the yawn that stretched his jaw. House reached down to the side of the couch and pulled the lever, making the foot rest pop out. He pushed the back down, tugging Wilson along with him until Wilson was laying at House's side, with his head resting in the dip of House's shoulder.

"Maybe being the girl isn't so bad," Wilson said softly as House reached over to snatch the blanket laying across the top of the couch, draping it over them both. Wilson felt House's chest rumble with laughter as his arm went gently around Wilson's waist.

Wilson closed his eyes and waited for sleep to take him. Just as he was letting go, he heard a quiet, rough whisper saying words he never thought he would hear aloud. "I love you, James. Don't ever leave me." Wilson smiled to himself, and let sleep take him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Just a quick note, for some reason I cannot get asterisks (*), which I use to indicate a change of scene, to show up once the chapter has been posted on the website, so from now on I will be using a series of dashes instead. Also, I attempted to do some chemotherapy/radiation research for this chapter and subsequent ones, however, everything I found was way above my head and beyond my level of education and comprehension so I'm winging it here. I will be going off what I learned about chemotherapy when my mother was fighting lung cancer, which may cause some inaccuracies, and for that I'm sorry. Carry on. Also, as ever, if you recognize it, then it belongs to someone far luckier than I.**

Wilson awoke in the morning feeling warm, groggy and content. It took him several moments to remember the night before, but when it came back to him he couldn't help the smile that spread across his face. Sometime in the night House had rolled over onto his side, leaving the pair of them facing each other, held tightly to House's chest with his head tucked under the older man's chin. He couldn't deny that it was a very comfortable position, one that he could definitely get used to being in.

Gently, trying not to wake his friend, Wilson pulled back enough to stretch, having slept in such a cramped position all night. He couldn't deny that it was the best night's sleep he'd had in quite some time. When he turned his eyes to House, he saw that he was already awake and watching him, somewhat warily. Wilson felt bad for him, for his endless insecurities that would probably never go away. Cautiously, Wilson leaned forward, pressing his lips to House's in a sweet, innocent good morning kiss that made his heart flutter slightly.

"I'm liking this more and more every day," he said in a pleased tone. Wilson smiled indulgently, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes in contentment. House tightened his arms around Wilson briefly, and Wilson very much enjoyed the feeling of security being wrapped in his arms afforded.

"I could get used to this," Wilson said as he reluctantly stood up and stretched. He heard House sit up, and extended his arm without really thinking about it, being so used to helping him up.

"I never thought I had a shot in hell," House muttered. "I feel like I'm going to wake up and it will all have been a dream."

"Well, if it's a dream then I don't think I want to wake up," Wilson responded with a smile. House gave him a tentative smile in answer, before hobbling off to the bathroom to shower. Wilson shook his head, amazed at how quickly his life had taken such a turn.

House had said that they were meeting someone at the bar and grill around the corner from House's apartment at half past eleven, a mysterious doctor House wouldn't name whom he had recruited to give them advice on Wilson's treatment. House believed that neither of them were in a position to make a decision, and Wilson found it slightly amazing that House was admitting that he felt too biased to make a decision, but he had realized it showed just how much House truly cared for him. Shaking his head at how different his friend had been acting since he was diagnosed, Wilson followed House in the door, where they were promptly seated in a corner booth.

They ordered drinks, and only waited about five minutes for their guest. When Cuddy walked around the corner, Wilson choked slightly on his water in surprise.

"Doctor Cuddy, I wasn't expecting you! How are you?" He asked quickly, wondering privately how the hell House had managed to pull this off, considering Cuddy hated his guts, and rightly so if he admitted it.

"I'm good Wilson, how are you?" She asked as she indicated to the waitress that she would have water as well.

"Doing well so far, thankfully. Not sure how much longer that's going to last, but as of now I'm still feeling good." He paused before continuing. "It's more than a little helpful to have a fr..." Wilson paused momentarily, on the edge of saying the word friend, "have House around right now." Wilson finished somewhat awkwardly, and took a sip of water in an attempt to cover the mishap.

The sharp way Cuddy looked at him before flicking her eyes to House, however, told him that she already had a very shrewd idea why he changed what he was about to say, and fought down color that threatened to rise in his cheeks.

"Okay," she began in a no nonsense voice. "Your guys' personal lives are none of my business, and I'm not going to pry. All I'm going to say on the matter is that I wish you both happiness, whatever there is or is not between you. I'm here because House asked for my help, which I am more than willing to give because you, Wilson, are my friend. Are we clear?" House nodded silently, and Wilson could feel the tension radiating off the man. Clearly, he was uncomfortable being around Cuddy. As discreetly as he could, Wilson reached over and squeezed House's good leg in comfort and thanks, appreciating the effort he was making.

"Thank you, Doct-"

"We're no longer colleagues, my name is Lisa."

"And mine is-" Cuddy cut him off again.

"No one has called you by your first name in fifteen years Wilson."

"Fair enough," he responded, though his mind travelled back to the previous night when House had thought him asleep. 'I love you James...' He gave himself a mental shake, wanting to focus on the conversation at hand. "So, do you have any ideas?"

"I do. It helps that you're in good health right now, because that means that we can start out aggressively. I know you're not a fan of radiation, but right now I think it could make the difference." Wilson nodded his head reluctantly. He wasn't a personal fan of radiation, but he couldn't deny that the treatment had it's uses. "Obviously, chemo is going to get harder to take, the weaker you get. If you get too weak or too sick and miss a round, it could be the end of the line."

Wilson nodded his head. "That happened to a lung cancer patient of mine. She missed one week and that was all it took. She was dead two months later."

Cuddy nodded. "So what I think you should do is start strong, something high level to start pushing it back, alternate between that and radiation. The longer it goes on, assuming there's notable progress, start backing off on the chemo and pushing harder on the radiation, it'll be easier once the thymoma has shrunk. It'll be intense and you're gonna feel like hell for a while, but in theory, it should do the job. And then once it's shrunk down enough,"

"I go in and cut the sonofabitch out," House finished determinedly.

"Exactly," Cuddy responded. "What does the oncologist think?"

Wilson thought for several long moments. "I think that if I'm strong enough to withstand it, it'll work. What kind of timeline are you thinking?"

"Chemo one week, radiation the next. It'll be brutal, but with any luck, it should work."

Wilson nodded, but didn't speak.. Fear was beginning to constrict his chest, knowing that the months ahead were going to be hell.

"He's going to need you House," Cuddy said.

House nodded once in response, not quite meeting her eyes. "I know. I'll be there."

Wilson smiled gently, "I know you will be House." Wilson paused for a moment, then gently took House's hand in his own and squeezed it reassuringly. "And I'm gonna do my best, alright?"

House nodded at him. "You better." Wilson nodded again in response before giving House's hand another squeeze, which was returned this time, and letting go.


	7. Chapter 7

**First ****things first, dashes didn't show up either. :/ So now I'm really not sure what to do, but I'll see if I can't figure something out. And if anyone knows something that does work, please let me know. :) Sorry for the hiatus, I have a few things on my plate at the present time. Second, I do not know what it is like to go through chemotherapy, so I am going by what I watched my mother experience, and what little I do know about the chemicals themselves. Anyhoo, here's your next chapter. As always, if you recognize it, it's not mine.**

Wilson eyed the IV line with distaste as House set it up, not looking forward to the coming months. He'd seen this enough times that he knew what it would do to him. Maybe not right at first, but he would feel it before long. At least this dose wasn't anywhere near what the last one was.

"Cheers," House said flatly, before inserting the line into Wilson's arm. He flinched slightly at the sting of pain as it went in, but figured he'd best get used to it. He was in for a long road of it, after all. House released the clamp, and Wilson felt it enter his bloodstream almost immediately, a burning sensation as the chemicals flowed through him.

House snapped off the gloves and limped down the hall, returning several moments later dragging a heavy comforter by a corner. Wilson rolled his eyes and sighed a bit, but said nothing as he piled it up beside him. He would certainly want it later.

"Need anything while you're being held hostage?" House asked.

"Maybe some ice water," Wilson responded. He was hungry, but he knew better than to eat. It would only come back up later anyway. House nodded as though he had heard Wilson's thoughts, but this didn't surprise him. They were on the same page much of the time, and knew how to read each other without words.

Wilson reclined on the couch and tugged the comforter up to cover his legs, figuring he could try to get a brief nap in. When House returned with the glass of water, he gently took a sip before laying back and closing his eyes. He felt the couch dip as House sat down beside him and let out a deep breath, relaxing more with House at his side. Slowly, he drifted off to sleep.

... ... ...

House watched Wilson sleep, feeling bad for what Wilson was about to go through but glad that he was finally willing to try. He knew he had essentially guilted Wilson into it, or rather, Chase had, but he couldn't find it in himself to regret that. He was a selfish man by nature, and anything that kept Wilson by his side was okay with him. Because if Wilson wasn't around, he would be completely alone, and he didn't know what he would do if that happened.

And then there was the additional fact that House had fallen for his friend a good decade ago, in love in that way that only builds with each passing moment, to the point where it feels as though you're going to smother under the weight, the force, of it.

Wilson was well and truly out now, and House took advantage of it. His head was tilted toward House, and he took the opportunity to let his fingers nimbly glide over the other man's face, astounded at the beauty he always saw there. He would never say such a thing aloud, but he could think it in the privacy of his own mind. He let his fingers gently run through the soft brown hair,_'that he blow dries', _House thought with a hint of disdain, and memorized the sensation. There was something very subtly feminine about Wilson, that even House couldn't quite pick out, though he admitted it was probably those damned big brown doe eyes of his.

House shook his head. How Wilson had managed to steal his heart so completely was utterly beyond him, but somehow he had. He looked longingly at his piano sitting in the corner, before laying down next to Wilson and gently cradling him to his chest. He looked down at Wilson's face, and his eyes couldn't help but be drawn to those soft, enticing pink lips. His mind reminded him what it felt like to feel them against his own, and his heart stuttered at the memory.

Wilson hadn't said he loved him, not romantically at least, but that didn't bother him. Eventually, he could see it in Wilson's eyes, it would happen. And he was content to wait for it, because even what had happened thus far was so completely and totally unexpected. Never in his wildest dreams had he thought it was even remotely a possibility that Wilson could want him, or even look at him if he were to find out that House had fallen for him. And yet, the man had kissed him, quite willingly, more than once. Wilson's words echoed in his mind.

_'Right now I just want to do what feels right. That felt right, and so does this...'_

He hummed contentedly at the memory, at the reminder that Wilson thought that it felt right to be with him. He had always suspected that maybe Wilson swung both ways, but he was never quite sure, and even if he had known for sure, that certainly wouldn't mean that Wilson automatically wanted him. So now the idea that he was even willing to give it a shot made his heart soar, though he would never admit such a thing aloud.

House sighed, contentedly stroking Wilson's hair for an unknown amount of time, completely happy to just let his younger friend sleep cuddled into his chest. A warm, happy bubble seemed to have taken permanent residence inside his chest, and he was completely okay with it staying there.

He looked up and noticed the IV bag had emptied, and gently removed the IV from Wilson's arm, placing a cotton swab and a bandaid over the wound before returning to his original position. He was happy to notice that Wilson hadn't stirred, he was perfectly happy to just hold him like this.

Looking down at Wilson's sleeping face, he smiled gently. He very much wanted to kiss him, and then had to remind himself that he could. Happily, House leaned forward and gently captured Wilson's lips with his own, relishing the feel against his own. After a moment, just as he was about to pull away, he felt a hand at the back of his neck pull him closer, and House gladly obliged.

The two kissed gently for several long minutes, when House felt Wilson's tongue graze gently over his bottom lip, sending tingles down his spine. He returned the favor, and his tongue accidentally brushed against Wilson's, making him shiver.

Perhaps House wasn't the only one who felt what seemed like an electric current zap between them, because suddenly Wilson was deepening the kiss, their tongues tangling and probing each other's mouths, struggling to get closer to each other. Their breath became ragged and House soon found himself getting erect. Not wanting to push too far, he slowed their kisses once more, and slowly opened his eyes to find Wilson staring at him with wide brown eyes and pupils blown with desire, surely reflecting his own. He smiled gently and gave Wilson another peck on the lips before tugging the younger man's head to his chest. Wilson wrapped an arm around House's waist, and they slept.


End file.
